


One Room

by marcusgriffin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Bunker Sex, Bunkers, Drug Addiction, Exhibitionism, F/M, Group Sex, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Kink, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Season/Series 05, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 12:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcusgriffin/pseuds/marcusgriffin
Summary: Following the conclave, Abby joins Marcus in his shared quarters, and what happens in the bunk room stays in the bunk room.Takes place immediately after 5x02 "Red Queen". Pure bunker porn without plot, you've been warned.





	One Room

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was different than my usual. Thanks to Kat_Rowe for the beta, to my girls in KTC for the encouragement, and to all the kink writers ahead of me who paved the way for this fic. Whew. Is it hot in here? Love me some Kabby and Mackson.

The bunker was cold and damp, sour with layers of must and iron from the blood-soaked conclave, and it chilled her to the bone. Thankfully, for the first time in over a month, she had his warm, protective arm wrapped around her shoulders as he guided her to his shared bunk room. She was still shaking from withdrawal, brow sweaty, the need to vomit beginning to pass, but he had offered to stay with her through the night. Did he know? He must have known. Headaches didn’t present this way, and even Marcus, whose eyes glazed over during discussions involving even the most simple medical terminology, would have realized this. Maybe that was why he was bringing her to bed with him tonight. Maybe he was keeping an eye on her.

There really hadn’t been time to admit it to herself, but that was mostly because she’d been pleasantly numb for the last month underground, still sober enough to function, but still high enough to ease the guilt-induced ache that taunted her from within, threatening to lash out and conquer her if she went without the pills for too long. But now that she’d been without them for several days, while she and Marcus were chained inside of the farm, she was beginning to awaken inside. Her extremities tingled as sensation returned, her head gradually ceased floating, blurry faces became recognizable, and the dampened ringing in her ears grew into ambient noise from the conversations around her. The ache was there, but so was clarity.

_She was an addict._

He opened the door to his bunk room and urged her inside, holding onto her bag for her.

“Why don’t you wash up?” he suggested with a gentle smile, pushing a few strands of her sweaty hair away from her brow.

She nodded, the thought of cool water refreshing in her state, so she headed over to the small sink to splash her face, beads rolling down her overheated but clammy skin and causing her to shiver.

She looked in the mirror and realized she’d never seen herself this way, not clearly. Heavy circles under her eyes, skin blotchy and pale, lips chapped. For the last forty-two days, whenever she saw her reflection, she looked right past what was in front of her, eyes dull and never quite present. But with the drugs out of her system, she could finally see herself, and it was startling. Marcus’ reflection behind her own caught her attention, and she watched in the mirror as he opened her bag and drew out the pill bottle, sliding it into his pocket.

So he did know.

She sighed and gripped the edge of the sink, the mere sight of the bottle enough to make her shake with need. As much as the clarity was a welcome relief, she wanted that high. She wanted to float outside of her body and watch her pain disintegrate into a dream world where nothing had consequences.

Shaking herself, she pushed away from the sink and turned around, smiling weakly at him.

“Hey,” he said with a loving smile, stepping close and bringing his hands to cup her face, thumbs tracing gentle circles over her wet skin. God, it had been so long since she’d felt his touch without her own guilt sucking the enjoyment out of it. She’d denied him of any intimacy for the last month, the pills robbing her of her desire and passion, hidden just underneath her stubborn but righteous grudge. But that was fading now, the anger, the numbness, the resentment towards him, and his hands were igniting warmth over skin, nerve endings tingling as they reawoke.

She closed her eyes and relished it, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. She brought her hands to his chest and tilted her chin up, intent on kissing him and reminding them both what that was like.

The door swung open, and Jackson, Miller, and a few other familiar Skaikru faces poured inside, muttering about the conclave. Jackson stopped, smiling faintly at her and Marcus, before moving over to his bunk and sitting down on the edge next to Miller, their long legs and knees bumping as they removed their heavy boots. Marcus dropped his hands from her face, cleared his throat, and stepped away, smiling apologetically at her. There was not going to be privacy for them, at least not until bunk assignments allocated them their own room, which they _were_ working on, but that could be weeks away. She supposed they’d have to treasure these little moments until then.

She sat down on the edge of Marcus’ bunk and looked around at the familiar faces, some of which she knew by name. She counted ten bunks, and sixteen people, not including herself. Obviously there were a few people sharing in here. It reminded her a little of the Ark, especially the working class living arrangements she’d witnessed on Farm and Mecha when she’d done her rounds there. At least it was something most of their people were fairly used to. She, being from Alpha all her life, was not.

“You okay?” he murmured, sitting down next to her and leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him as he gave her a worried look.

“Fine. Just… shaky.”

“Yeah. You’re looking a little better though. You’ve got some color in your skin.” His finger brushed her cheek and she shivered.

“Starting to feel more myself,” she confessed with a faint but ashamed smile, her eyes drifting down to the gentle bulge in his pocket where her pill bottle was.

He didn’t seem to notice, eyes now scanning the room as everyone finished settling in for the night, some undressing and others waiting for the cover of darkness.

“Alright, are we ready for lights out?” Marcus asked.

She slipped off her boots, listening as everyone gave their quiet approval. She smiled across at Jackson and Miller, who were stripping down to their t-shirts and shorts, and crawling together into the too-small bunk. Jackson’s toes dangled over the edge, and they became a gorgeous mess of brown limbs as Miller wrapped his arms around him and tugged him close. She was happy for Jackson.

She watched Marcus stand and move to the light switch on the wall, flicking it off before his shadowy silhouette moved back to the bed and started undressing down to his own shirt and shorts. She stood and slid her top over her head, hanging it over the metal of the bunk, then squirmed out of her pants and crawled under the covers in her tank top and underwear. He joined her shortly after, the bed creaking slightly and the mattress dipping under his weight. It took them a moment to adjust. They’d only shared a bed for nine days and one night in Polis, and it was a lot bigger and much more decadent than this. But they found a position that worked, him on his back and her on her side, folded into his warm body with her head and palm resting on his chest. It was like coming home.

“Are you comfortable?” he whispered against her hair, pressing a kiss there.

She nodded and made a soft sigh of agreement, lips lingering on his chest. He squirmed a little and she found it cute.

It had been more hours than she could count since she’d had a proper sleep, the cold concrete of the farm floor and the metal piping in her back still leaving aches and bruises in their place, never really allowing her a deep sleep while they'd been shackled. A cramped bunk with Marcus’ protective arms wrapped around her and her head against his firm chest was tempting enough to pull her under, and she slowly let it. But just as she was beginning to drop off, her eyes opened in the dark, keen to the quiet squeak of one of the bunks and some rustling of hands and clothes.

“Nate… stop,” she heard Jackson whisper.

She strained her ears in the darkness, wondering if there was something wrong. Silence. Someone eventually let out a shaky sigh, and just as she was about to relax back into sleep, the unmistakable dry sound of skin rubbing skin caused her eyes to open wide. In the bunk across from them, she could hear Jackson’s muffled but heavy breathing and the faint, wet pop of lips and mouths. It was almost sweet. The entire time she’d known the young man, he’d been so virginal, perhaps not aware of his feelings about men even if she’d known long before him. There’d been a girlfriend or two, but nothing that developed past a few dinner dates and correspondences. But here he was, with the unmistakable sound of Miller’s hand down his shorts. Maybe it was wrong, but it made her ache in a way that she hadn’t since the pills took that from her.

She slowly tilted her head up, wondering if Marcus was asleep. She could just barely make out the sharp edges of his face and the soft contours of his beard, but his eyes were lost in shadows, indecipherable, so she listened to his breathing. It was quiet and controlled.

He was definitely still awake.

From another corner of the room, she heard wet, less muffled kisses begin, and the creak of a bunk as someone shifted on top of someone else. Oh, _god_. Was this really happening? Is this what shared living spaces were like? She supposed it was just a classic response to an evolutionary need, and lack of privacy was always going to lose against biology in the end, but it didn’t stop the ache between her legs from growing as she listened.

She tilted her head and pressed a lingering kiss to the exposed skin of Marcus' shoulder where his neckline dipped. He sucked in a breath and tightened his arms around her. Yup, definitely awake still. She felt bold, a shameless voyeur as at least two other couples, including Jackson and Miller, freely explored each other in the darkness. It had been so long since Polis, since those glorious days and nights together with nothing but the two of them. And with the drugs out of her system, her body was _awake_ and alive and needed her to do something about it.

She shifted slightly and draped a leg over his, pressing against his hip until it made contact with her hot, aching center. She heard him let out a shaky breath, tightening his hold once again.

The dry rub of skin against skin in the next bunk intensified and grew more frantic, and judging by the sounds of their ragged pants, both of the young men were close. She buried her face into Marcus’ throat, her own breath coming faster now. His was still obnoxiously disciplined. Didn’t he hear what was happening around them?! How could he not react?

The bunk in the corner of the room was now creating a quiet but consistent creaking noise as the eager couple moved together. She chanced a look, squinting into the darkness, and could make out the shadows of a woman clearly on top of her husband as they whispered lovingly to each other, hips rocking as one. It made her so hot and wet, memories of Marcus filling her mind.

She looked up at him again, and since he still seemed so oblivious, she lifted her lips and pressed a few kisses to his neck, his beard tickling her nose.

“Abby,” he whispered, and it was more of a warning than an invitation. She frowned and stared up at him, trying to make out his expression. She saw him shake his head, felt him firmly guide her head back to its place on her chest, and she let out a frustrated exhale. But to her surprise, just as she was about to accept the fact that nothing was going to happen for her tonight as everyone around her got lucky, she felt his hand slide under the blanket to squeeze her ass, before his fingers trailed over her hip bone, down the bottom of her stomach, and slipped inside the band of her underwear. Her heart raced and her eyes clamped shut. She felt his fingers stroke her slick folds, splayed in the hair there, moving over her slit slowly but firmly as he obviously tried to be discreet. And finally, his calloused fingers dipped inside of her and found her aching bud in slow, torturous circles.

Damn him.

Her body was on fire, and she buried her labored pants into his chest. She wondered if people in the room could hear her, just like she could hear them. Were they getting off on it, too?

In the bunk next to her, she heard Jackson let out a series of muffled, gurgled gasps, and she could swear she heard the wet dribble of seed from his cock as it landed on someone’s skin. Her hips twitched and she tightened her hold on Marcus, whimpering against him.

Somewhere else in the room, a fly unzipped as someone released their cock and started stroking themselves, the sound adding another harmony to the chorus of pleasure. It was not drawn out, and about twenty seconds later, the stroking grew frantic and suddenly ceased around a man’s quiet grunt, and he zipped himself back up, task completed.

The couple in the corner were now moving with frenzy, breath heavy and quick. She listened to the desperate strokes in the bunk next to them, imagining that Jackson was close to finishing Miller off by now. She heard the unmistakable jerk of body parts against each other and broken pants and muffled gasps as the couple finished fucking, and she felt her own body tense and build. Marcus seemed to sense it, because his fingers suddenly circled her throbbing clit in quick, determined circles, and she swore his breathing was finally growing less controlled. Next to them, Miller let out a much more discrete moan than Jackson had.

Abby came hard.

His fingers kept her there for what was a glorious age, her head spinning in a way so different from the effects of the drugs, then slowed their tenacious movements in favor of gentle caresses. She sighed against his chest, shuddering, and pressed a searching hand to his shorts, pleased to find him rock hard. That bastard. He’d been deceiving her this entire time, with his restraint and steady hands. But the moment she found his bulge, he let out a quiet gasp, and his act faltered.

She slid her hand inside his waistband and settled her warm palm against his even hotter cock, smiling into his chest when his hips jumped. He whispered something nearly inaudible against her hair, and it sounded encouraging, so she began to stroke him firmly inside of his shorts, listening to the sated, still-heavy breathing throughout the room. It was his turn now. It occurred to her that his whisper must have been a warning, because his fingers dug into her back and, eight strokes later, his come was hot against her hand and his breathing was finally fully ragged. It made her smile a little smugly at finally breaking his resolve.

Once she no longer felt the stream of his seed pulsing against her hand, she carefully lifted it to her lips and sucked his pleasure from her fingers, one at a time, and he shuddered in response.

The sounds of heavy breathing grew steadier, some becoming snores as the room fell asleep.

Abby wondered if this was a regular thing, and if Marcus had ever touched himself to the sounds of everyone else getting off, especially with her neglecting him like she had been. It brought her arousal back to life, but she ignored it this time in favor of sleep. She’d just have to investigate further the next day.

* *

What happened in their room stayed in their room.

The following morning, everyone acted completely normal, as if nothing licentious had occurred under the cover of night. Maybe that was for the best. They had to live with these people for the next five years, and who knew how long it would be until she and Marcus had the privacy of their own four walls at night. The only difference she noticed was Jackson’s inability to look her in the eye, but she supposed that was expected under the circumstances.

Marcus’ deft fingers had driven her to a wonderful orgasm yesterday evening, but she still felt empty, her ache never entirely relieved. She wanted him inside of her, wanted to feel his release deep within, wanted the desperate, almost bruising movement of his hips against hers as they drove each other higher just like they had again and again in Polis. And judging by the way he found her in medical that afternoon, pressed against her back with his arms wrapped around her middle, brushing against the bottom of her breasts, and hard against her ass, he wanted the same.

She was nearly tempted to suggest they find a supply closet, like a couple of randy teenagers, but then Jackson arrived. And after Jackson there were patients. And more patients. And a crisis or two. And by the time they crawled into bed that night, she was so horny she could scream.

Tonight it seemed liked hours passed until she heard the sound of wet, downward-moving kisses in the bunk next to her. Oh god. Who was going down on who? Jackson let out a strangled gasp and quickly answered her question.

She felt Marcus tighten his hold on her.

It didn’t take long after that for the couple in the corner to get a move on things. She glanced into the shadows and could see he was on top tonight, holding himself up against the metal of the bunk as he thrust into her again and again. It was honestly more than Abby could take.

She didn’t bother with timidness this time, overcome by her body's desire and need. She slid a hand down Marcus’ shorts, pleased to find he didn’t need much encouragement at all. He clearly wanted this as badly as she did.

Abby swiftly rolled onto her side, facing the bunk next to theirs. She squirmed out of her panties, he spooned up to her back, trapping his cock between her thighs, and slid against her slippery center. She listened to the unmistakable wet glide of Miller’s mouth around Jackson, watching the silhouette of his head bobbing underneath the covers in the bunk next to theirs.

Letting out a quiet moan, she shifted so Marcus’ head slipped inside of her folds for a moment, causing him to shudder and gasp against her hair. He grabbed her hips to still her. Was the poor man still uncertain about this? The couple in the corner were more unrestrained tonight, and she envied their boldness.

“Abby,” he breathed against her hair, voice barely audible. “We shouldn’t…”

She shifted again, trying to trap his head between her folds and break his resolve. It must have worked, because he was suddenly pushing into her, achingly, slowly, as if he’d explode if he wasn’t inside her soon. She had to bite down on her arm to keep from crying out, and he quickly replaced her arm with his hand, palm clamped tightly over her mouth. And there he was, thrusting into her at a gloriously steady pace, clearly just as driven by this primal need as she was.

 _Fuck_.

She let out a series of muffled gasps against his palm, listening to Jackson’s sounds of ecstasy as he came in Miller’s mouth, the boys’ bunk rattling as fists desperately clutched the mattress. The poor thing came fast, but she didn’t blame him. Was that his first blowjob? The first ones always ended quickly. Even Marcus, a disciplined man in his forties, came inside of her mouth in less than a minute in Polis as she knelt beside the bed, nails digging into his thighs and eyes locked with his the entire time she devoured him. She couldn’t wait to do it again. She wanted to see how long she could keep him there, rock hard and twitching between her lips as his head bruised the back of her throat over and over. Maybe tomorrow night.

He picked up his pace, breathing heavily in her ear as his free hand slid down her side and under the covers, disappearing between her thighs. Her head fell back and she bit down on his hand, hips jerking as he found her already overstimulated clit. He was relentless tonight, and he rubbed her hard and fast, nearly to the point of agony, but any sensation, however intense, was welcomed after so much time spent numb from the pills.

She listened to the creak of the bed in the corner, as the man thrust into his wife hard and fast, skin slapping wetly against skin. She tried to tune them out and isolate every other sound in the room, as if the more pleasure she could discern, the more aroused she’d become. She could hear several different rapid strokes as faceless men pleasured themselves, and now Jackson with his inexperienced but eager to please mouth around Miller, sucking him off with a series of hungry grunts. In the bunk behind them, she swore she could make out a woman dipping her fingers and in out of herself, as if matching time with Marcus' thrusts. The idea of being observed drove her to the edge, and she submitted to her climax, coming hard around his cock with whimpers loud enough to escape his firm palm on her mouth. The woman behind them gasped quietly and apparently came, too, with wet and desperate sounds, and it was like a domino effect from there.

There was a grunt somewhere in the room, followed by the sound of come splattering onto the ground.

She heard Miller grab onto Jackson’s head, causing the less experienced man to gag as he finished with a long, quiet groan.

The couple in the corner, shortly after, not even attempting modesty anymore, both came one at a time with broken pants and quiet sobs.

Marcus was breathing heavily behind her now, slamming into her, the wet slap of his thrusts resonating amongst the other sounds lining the humid room. She could smell pleasure thick in the air, drowning out the sour blood and mustiness that usually hung there and made it difficult to sleep.

A few last frantic thrusts, and Marcus let out a strangled gasp, his climax tearing through him as he emptied inside of her, flooding her with warmth and every ounce of evidence of his desire for her. She whimpered. He was hot like this, so unrestrained and careless and bold as the entire room listened to his orgasm.

She felt him slowly soften inside of her, panting against her shoulder, but neither of them moved to let go. She had to smile as the woman behind them languidly carried herself to another orgasm, the wet desperation of her fingers and breathy moans a surprisingly pleasant sound that she hadn't heard from any other woman other than herself in a very long time.

When the next morning came, she and Marcus were greeted with the news that their private quarters were ready for them.

Regardless, they stayed a couple more nights.


End file.
